musings of Mother Hood

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

When did life get so complicated? At what point did it start being about decisions and money and responsibility? I hope I didn't set that up as if I'm about to provide some answers. I wish.

It's true what they say. Parenting is hard. Harder than it looks. And you find yourself having an inner dialogue with your self-confidence, trying to convince it that 2 is hard, but 3 will be easier. Years old, that is. If I can just get past this or if he would just grow out of that -- things will be different and the smooth sailing will begin. And then you actually get to that next stage and you become painfully aware of all the fruitless, wishful thinking.  

And it's not just parenting. I've been thinking a lot about growing up. My high school reunion is this weekend. Ten years. Have I done ten years worth of growing up? In high school, you make plans that are only barely based in any semblance of reality. You make promises to yourself and to your friends about staying in touch and meeting at THIS restaurant every year for the rest of eternity to laugh at THIS joke and everything will be the same as it ever was and we will always be friends, the end. And then life happens. And at first, you feel terrible if you don't make it home during every break from college. You feel like you're missing out. You miss high school and the way things used to be. But over time you do some growing up and you start becoming the person you're supposed to be, and you let high school get a little further away.

And then you look up and it's been ten years. And you realize that you've spent the last couple years really diving into your new, grown up life. And that you're really happy with the way things are starting to happen. And you find yourself wondering about those people in high school. Those friends you thought you'd never be able to leave behind. And you realize it's been years since you've seen some of them. And you can't wait to reconnect and find out what they've been doing with their own grown up selves. You already feel happy for them and can't wait to hug a little, cry a little, and smile for pictures that you'll be digging off your hard drive in another ten years.

Colt won't go with us to the reunion this weekend but I'll probably think of him the entire time. I already have trouble making sense of it all when I try to think of my High School Self and my Grown Up Self - all in the same day. I dug out the scrapbook I made of my senior year and have flipped through it several times in the last week. The girl in those pictures is barely recognizable. In many ways. The me in the pictures these days is toting (or chasing!) a toddler little boy. I have a job and responsibilities, and daily decisions to make. And the girl in that scrapbook is performing on stage in a school musical or painting a house on a youth mission trip or with friends at a high school pep rally. She THINKS her life is dramatic and complicated. What with homework and play practice and college decisions to make. Who IS that girl?

I remember being really hard on myself in high school. Maybe more so then than now. I remember feeling that I'd never be able to keep it together and I'd never be a good decision maker and I'd never learn to truly feel comfortable with myself. Poor, poor me.

And while I'm still hard on myself sometimes, I've decided that the only way that the Sarahs at either end of these ten years can coexist, is to accept each other for what they are and who they are/were genuinely trying to become. They've been MY ten years. And I'm happy with them. And I think I needed all ten years to pass before I would be able to look back on that girl in the pictures - and be proud of her.

I think maybe acceptance is my favorite part of parenting, so far. Kids have no concept of imperfection and no capacity for judgment. To a two year old, there are no two more enthralling, perfect people in the whole wide stinkin' world than Mama and Dada. Colt doesn't care how long it's been since I dusted and he doesn't care that I'm not a great driver. He doesn't even care if I'm sometimes so tired that I have to make up some of the words as I go along, he sits in my lap and listens with the sweetest look on his face - as if he's never heard anything more enchanting than the sound of my voice singing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". And on the most complicated of days, when the decisions are the toughest and the responsibilities are the most trying, I always know there's a Little Guy waiting for me with a grin that could melt steel and a heart the size of Texas who loves me despite it all. Take THAT, high school. 

What the heck, January?

Didn't I just write a mulligan entry a few weeks ago? It was the Christmas Break that wouldn't end when a combination of bad weather and toddler sickness had us cooped up for almost an entire extra week at the beginning of January. The work/school/eating/sleeping schedule was completely out the window and just when I thought we were solidly back on track, here life went and happened again. 

Geez, it seems like forever ago now, but last weekend I spent the weekend in Cabot as a guest judge at the Cabot Classic. In a former life, I was a drama kid at Cabot High School and their annual tournament gives me a chance to go back "home", reconnect with old friends, and brush up on my Sylvia Plath.  Oh, those days. I spent nearly every weekend of my high school tenure on a bus with 60 or so of my closest drama nerd friends traveling to various schools around the state of Arkansas to compete in tournaments. And though I'm a little rusty these days, I once knew every single syllable of RENT- like any other self-respecting drama kid of the late 90s.

Why are entire years strewn
On the cutting room floor of memories?
When single frames from one magic night
Forever flicker in close-up on the 3D IMAX of my mind.

The tournament this year was a ball, I judged a few rounds and caught up with a few old friends. And the rest of the weekend I got to spend time with my friends David and Jennie and other friends from the church I grew up in. I've known David since 4th grade Sunday School and his wife Jennie since they started dating during our freshman year in college. They were so sweet to let me crash at their house for the weekend and let me tag along to a cook-out with more old church friends on Saturday night. Who says you can't go home?

While I was in Cabot, I got the news that my Grandma had passed away in Huron. I immediately made plans to join Mom and Dad, and Becky in Huron for funeral services. Driving to Huron and back meant that I would be away from home Tuesday morning until Saturday afternoon. If you're doing the math, that means I was home for about 2 of the last 10 days.  It was a long week. A hard one. But it's always good to see family. And unfortunately, funerals tend to bring everyone home. After we dropped Mom at the airport in Kansas City - Dad, Becky and I got back to Fayetteville Saturday just in time for supper with my boys.

So at home, things are more or less back to normal. Well, they will be as soon as I get our taxes filed and figure out who taught Colt to giggle when he passes gas.

Outside, however, is a different story. Schools were closed again late last week as we had ICE STORM v.2010. Ugh. Nowhere near the damage of last year. But what a pain. And quite possibly the most snow I have seen in Fayetteville in the 10 years I've lived here. Look here, Mother Nature, I REALLY need my family to get back to school and work so let's play nice this week, huh?

 

I honestly don't know why it still knocks me off track when things aren't "normal". When's the last time I had two normal days in a row? Ha. Certainly not in the last month! 2010 has been quite the whirlwind so far. I purposely made only one quantifiable New Year's Resolution this year - no french fries. No french fries in 2010. Which seemed OK until it dawned on me about halfway through January that "no french fries" would certainly mean "no cheese fries". I lost a little bit of steam at that point, but I still haven't broken it. Though, let me be clear that I'm certainly not on any kind of health food kick. In the interest of full disclosure, I confess that so far in 2010 I have eaten a Frito Burrito at each of three different restaurants -- and now that I think of it, in three different states! *BIG sigh*

I KNOW I've mentioned my unhealthy obsession with love for Frito Burritos here before. And it's not going anywhere. Last week I mentioned it to a coworker and she sent me the link for Hungry Girl. Evidently, there's a website out there that is trying to destroy me is focused on providing fun, realistic food advice to people like me. And Hungry Girl recently posted on this very topic! Her post not only divulges the nutritional information for the Sonic version - don't worry, I looked away - but it also gives a recipe for an alternative, healthier version. But in my rudimentary food experience I have learned that the "low cal" version rarely holds a candle to The Real Thing. And what am I saving those arteries for anyway? I think eating the turkey-chili-fat-free-cheese version might break my spirit.

And then this past week I discovered that both Taco John's (in South Dakota) and Taco Bell (in Missouri somewhere... in a truck stop...) now have their versions of the Frito Burrito. What can I say? I'm weak. What I lack in physical strength, punctuality, and patience for grammatical errors I make up for in taste bud intensity. It's a curse. If only I could find a way to put a productive spin on this. I'm more than willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good that is market research. Maybe I could travel the country - the world! - testing different versions of Frito Burritos. I could write a book. I could be my own twisted and slightly pathetic version of a food critic. Oh, wouldn't my parents be proud.

But hey! No french fries!

And as for Resolutions, if the 'french fries' thing doesn't work out I always have the usual backups:

• Get more sleep and/or go to bed earlier. RIGHT. And besides, sometimes my most productive minutes of the day are between the hours of 10pm and 1am.
• Lose weight and/or eat healthier. aka - Finally fit back into that other half of my closet I try not to think about too much and try even harder to casually overlook while I get dressed in the morning. But oh yeah, there's the Frito Burrito thing. Dang.
• Save money. *Another BIG sigh* 

I better get started.

And with that, I wash my hands of you, January. Nice knowin' ya. And to you, February, best of luck.

If Clothes Make The Man

Stoplights are standardized. To my knowledge, anywhere you go in this world - green means go and red means stop. You don't even have to be able to READ and you know that. So uncomplicated and efficient. But children's clothing? That's a free-for-all.

I realize that not all babies are shaped the same and, much like women's clothing, every brand thinks they do it The Right Way, but could we all just make our clothes the same freaking size? Or just get close? And can we agree on definitions for words like "newborn" and "infant" and "baby"?

I've had a bit of a love-hate relationship with children's clothing from day one, really. It took me a good six months to figure out that clothes labeled "6" or "9" are actually intended to fit up until "6" or "9" months. That was a bummer. And several things went into the Outgrown Bucket without ever being worn. But by this time last year I really had a handle on it. I organized Colt's closet into sizes and seasons and made it a point to periodically go in and be sure he was wearing all the stuff that fit. After finally accepting that there's no discernible difference between "Newborn" and "0-3", I navigated through 3-6, 6-12, even a few 6-9 and 9-12, though if I had my way those last two would go the way of the 2 dollar bill.

But I've come to another crossroads. I spent some time this weekend going through everything as (some of) his 12-18 month shirts are getting snug. Truthfully, I get pretty excited when it's time to shift up to the next size because I get to dig back into the closet and find things I completely forgot I bought on sale this time last year. There's 12-18, some of which still fit. Especially pants. But then there are some sweaters that I bought him for this fall - clearly labeled 12-18 months - that I PROMISE you he'll still be able to wear a year from now.

And the question that currently haunts me: What in the WORLD is the difference between "18-24 months" and "2T"? Is 2T another trick - like the 6 and 9 clothes? Or does it mean that he can wear those clothes when he is actually two?

Honestly, why does it have to be in secret code? We count in months until 24, then it switches to Ts. Ok. But about this age is when we start walking the fine line between "baby" and "kid". Some places even consider him a "newborn" until 24 months! Wha?

My strategy so far has been to call in reinforcements and ask my friend Nancy, who rarely lets me down when it comes to these things. Maybe next week I'll try to figure out why Gymboree sells swimwear in January.

All Gone

A few days ago we had an intervention. Or, depending on how you look at it, an exorcism. Either way, the coffeemaker had to go.

It was impossibly cute the first 10 times Colt dragged one of us by the hand into the kitchen to demonstratively point at the coffeemaker. It was bearable the first 100 times. But after that, we had to take action. So we did what any reasonable, judicious parents of a toddler might do if faced with such a dilemma.

We hid his toys.

Not his toys, obviously. But the one thing he just can't seem to get enough of since Grandpa left town. That damn coffeemaker.

Out of respect for future, mature adult Colt I did not capture on video the, ahem, range of emotions he experienced when denied the opportunity (every 2 minutes) to "make" coffee. It wasn't pretty. And all it took was a 5 second exchange of his furious pointing and my no-nonsense face making. Recipe for disaster. 

I guess I should be grateful for all his "helping" around the house. I mean, he's practically running the place.  He helps me do laundry on Sundays by dragging his hamper from his room all the way across the house to the laundry room, handing me its contents piece by piece, then dragging the empty hamper back to its spot beside the changing table in his room. Trust me when I tell you it's every bit as adorable as it sounds.

And helping make coffee topped the list of favorite household chores. So now that the coffeemaker has found a new home at the back of the bottom shelf of the pantry, Colt is lost. He's old enough and aware enough to remember what used to be on the counter (and how much FREAKING fun it was to play with). So he still makes regular trips to the kitchen, but he has some new material. Now, when he rounds the corner and sees the empty countertop, he loosens his grip on my index finger, stops in his tracks, and points anyway - while giving me a really confused look. Then I give him the brilliant explanation I worked long and hard on last week while counting to ten during one of his "displays of emotion".

"It's all gone," I say.

Confused look continues.

"Yep. All Gone."

Then he looks up at me through his bangs and juts both arms out to his sides, palms up. You know, like this:

 

"That's right. The coffeemaker is all gone."

I have no idea who taught him this universal sign for all things pitiful. But I think it's awesome and I really have to concentrate on making the no-nonsense face when he does this. And it's WAY cuter than the crumpled puddle of howling toddler that used to happen every time I cruelly refused to pick him up and let him make a cup of coffee no one had any intention of drinking.

Incidentally, the "all gone" pictured above is in reference to the water that finished draining out of the tub only moments before. His little feet were beyond pruney and he showed no interest in getting out of the tub to finish getting ready for night-night. So I combined every scrap of parenting wisdom I have and deployed my new go-to plan. I let the water out of the tub, then looked at him like I was just as shocked as he was. Scoff! What happened to the water?

You guessed it.

18(ish) Months

I honestly don't know where the time is going. First of all, I'm sitting down to write Colt's 18 month update. And secondly, he's actually almost 19 months old. Somebody get this lady a calendar.

My tardiness in bringing you Master Colt's 18 month entry is easily blamed on the people who schedule appointments at his Pediatrician's office. Our first several well-child checkups with them were within a day or two of whatever milestone required a visit, i.e. birth, 3 months old, 6 months old, etc. And for some silly reason like "the holidays", his 18 month mark (December 18th) came and went and his appointment was actually today. Meh. Close enough.

They did all the usual stuff, and his height (32.6 inches - 50th percentile) and weight (24 pounds - 25th percentile) stats reinforced for the umpteenth time that the Hood is strong with this one. Tall. Thin. Some people have all the luck.

We answered all the developmental questions which - for some reason - make me chuckle. It might be because we just don't know that many other babies. So we don't know what he does that's "normal" and what he does that's completely weird. Does your child like climbing on things? Does your child ever use his index finger to point, to ask for something? Or to indicate interest in something?

Colt passed with flying colors on everything except talking. Still no real talking. But he's become much more responsive even in the last few weeks, meaning he listens when I tell him we SIT on the couch - not jump/stand/run or when I ask him to bring me something or pick up his milk cup. I don't think talking is too far away. And he's become a master pointer. His little index finger can indicate anything from "more Cheerios, please" to "turn out the light, I'm ready to go night-night".

 

He's also started to connect some dots that have really impressed me. He knows that when he's done with his drink cup it goes back in the fridge - and he'll put it there. Before he could really understand what was going on, we would carry him from room to room when we needed to change his diaper or feed him supper or brush his teeth. But now we talk about what we're doing and he usually leads the way. This has been really impressive in the diaper arena. Just this week he's started being aware of dirty diapers. As soon as he has a dirty diaper, he points to it and then heads to his room, knowing he needs to be changed. I know this is such a baby step as far as potty training, but I've decided to take it as a good sign, nonetheless.

Our little guy is developing a sense of humor, which cracks me up. He is pretty ticklish and thinks everyone else is, too. He's a little rough (more pinching than actual tickling), but tickles our bellies when we're sitting on the couch or sneaks up behind me when I'm washing dishes and tickles my toes or my sides. He thinks it's HILARIOUS. He also tries to "trick" me sometimes with his shape-sorting game. The star shape is slightly smaller than the circle shape so it fits into the round hole (intended for the circle). He knows which shapes go where as he has taken them in and out about 700 times, but he just loves to put the star in the round hole, then look up at me and laugh and laugh. You got me!

He has also started doing this little smirk that is eerily reminiscent of one Mr. Tom Martin. Always up to something!

 

Another favorite joke is hiding. You all remember the cabinet. Well, he's recently discovered that he fits inside the cabinet! Funny, right!? Actually - yes.

The *thud* of the door closing gets me every time.

At his checkup today, he had to get a few shots. In the past, shots have been a very small deal. He always cried a little, but was over it within minutes. Not today. Today he was old enough to hate us for making him get shots. And he made the most of it. In all fairness, his mother made his appointment at lunch time, second only to naptime as the worst time of day to disrupt the schedule of a toddler and subject him to things like SHOTS. Oh man. So we got through the measurements and the developmental questions and the ear-inspecting and the heart-listening, and it was really pushing lunch time. Then came the icing on the cake. And I was the lucky one who got to hold his arms to his chest so he didn't flail around and make it worse. So I'm as guilty as anyone. And he didn't let me forget it. We drove home to feed him a quick lunch so he could make it back to daycare in time for a nap, and he SOBBED the entire way home - pointing to Jeff's car ahead of us on the road. After all, Daddy hadn't held him down while those mean strangers jabbed him in the legs with needles. When we got home, he flat out REFUSED to eat. (Reminder: This kid LOVES to eat.) Jeff had stopped to grab us some lunch, so he wasn't home yet and Colt was all alone with The Mean Lady Who Let Those People Give Him Shots. He alternated between glaring at me and throwing himself on the floor at the door he knew Jeff would be coming through when he came home. He continued the hunger strike until it was time to go back to school, so Jeff delivered an angry, hungry, late-for-his-nap toddler back to his unsuspecting teachers at daycare. Poor little guy.

When I picked him up this afternoon, they let me know that he didn't get much of a nap but had a surprisingly good afternoon. When we got home, it was obvious he hadn't yet found it in his heart to forgive me and we had an encore of the earlier loveliness during which I got desperate enough to indulge his new obsession - the coffeemaker. (By the way Dad, you've created a monster. He points emphatically at the coffeemaker about a hundred times a day.) So I gave in and let him make a cup of coffee. Only then did he agree to eat his supper. Though there was NO WAY he was eating it in his normal highchair. He would only sit in his booster seat - which usually stays in the car for use in restaurants with piss-poor highchairs. Only after I dragged a dining room chair into the den and put on some dinner entertainment (Barney) did he agree to eat a handful of green beans and a few slices of turkey.

 

So it's particularly after days like this that I wonder to myself, hmm, I sure know a lot of people with kids 2 or 3 years apart.  What is it about children this age that makes people want to have more? 

But then there's this. This might have something to do with it.

***

Guess what time it is! (All together now) New Photo Album Time! That's right, Colt Fans, it's time to tie up loose ends in the Colt - 12 to 18 Months album and break ground on the, you guessed it, Colt - 18 to 24 Months album. All past photos are compiled in albums and listed along the right hand side of this page. Some of them go back to the Dark Ages - or our wedding, whatever. But there they are.

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If you'd like to receive updates from Mother Hood in your inbox, it's as easy as a click or two RIGHT HERE. No spam or weirdness, just a convenient email reminder when there are updates on the blog.

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Last thing, then I promise I'll stop. I discovered some videos I hadn't posted so I threw them up on our YouTube channel. Be sure and check them out, RIGHT HERE. 

Holiday Recap

So I feel like I may have slacked a little on the holidays this year and I can't quite put my finger on it.  Let's see, I spent Thanksgiving - the unofficial kickoff of the holiday season - in sunny Africa. Which just kinda started off Holiday Season 2009 on a different page than years past. I must have been relying on Turkey Day for "the spirit" more than I realized. I got back from my trip just in time for December and I felt so behind. I hadn't started my shopping, I hadn't decorated the house. The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas always seems to fly by in a blur of parties and baking and shopping and traveling -- and I couldn't quite keep up.

I convinced myself that a tree was not in the cards for us this year. Honestly, I didn't think it would be any fun for Colt to have to stare at a big, beautiful, shiny, blinking, dangling temptation every day for a month but get his hands spanked every time he indulged. So we didn't put up a Christmas tree. I did put up our stockings - which are one of my favorite things about Christmas anyhow. And we went to visit Santa. We didn't go completely humbug.

   

This time of year always carries with it a kind of heightened level of emotion. Families are together. Or not. It's the end of one year, beginning of the next so it's a perfect time to reflect on both the memorable and forgettable moments of the past twelve months and beat yourself up about them. And this year, the emotion was not lost on me. I teared up at each and every clip I saw of a deployed soldier wishing his family back home a Merry Christmas. And I subjected myself to the last ten minutes of Marley & Me about seven times. What a mess.

And on top of everything. The Pampers - Silent Night TV spot. It absolutely melts me into a pathetic little puddle of mush. And I usually see it twelve hundred times around the holidays. But this year - nothing.  Not once. You know, this should actually be at the top of the list of pathetic reasons I feel like The Grinch this year. I didn't get my regular injection of peaceful widdle sweeping babies.

Told you.

So anyway. I am committed. Christmas 2010 will be different. We will decorate a tree. We will go see Christmas lights and leave cookies for Santa. We will take pictures in our jammies. Next year, Colt will be old enough to really get into things and I look forward to seeing the magic of Christmas through a whole new set of eyes.

***

Now that I've put a good, solid damper on things -- let's try to refocus. Despite my, ahem, minimalist attitude about Christmas this year, we had a holiday full of family and fun and memories.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.
Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more."

We left on the 22nd for Hood Christmas in Arkadelphia. It is the only time of year that all the Hoods get together in one place and these days there are 14 of us! The Atlanta Hoods made it to town right before us and we attended the 2nd Annual Holiday Steak Night at the Teeds'. Last year, Frank and John grilled steak for everyone (they kindly grilled me a chicken breast) and it was such a big hit that I believe it's here to stay.

Several months back I innocently suggested to Sarah and Lynn that we attempt a family photo at Christmas this year as the last time a photo was taken of all the Hoods was at Pop and Grandmother's 50th anniversary in 2004. Well I guess that's not even true because there's a photo of all of us at our wedding in 2006. Either way, it was high time. Little did I know how entertaining taking a photo of 14 people could be! We should do it EVERY year! If I had thought about it I would have been taking photos OF the photo taking - priceless! We don't have proofs yet, but of course I'll post them when I get them.

Colt was pretty excited about being allowed to rip things apart when it came time to open presents. It didn't take him too long to get the hang of it. Santa (and Aunt Lynn, Aunt Sarah, Courtney, and Grandmother!) was very good to him this year and we had a lot of fun.

 

 

That cellphone was a gift from Aunt Sarah. I have no idea how he knows how to hold it... so accurately...  

Colt has been all about the kitchen lately, mostly trying his hardest to sit or stand in the 10 inch space between my feet at all times. I can't blame him. The kitchen has all kinds of interesting noises and smells and stuff to bang together. And Grandmother was more than happy to oblige. Here they are making meringue.

  

Colt spent most of his time chasing Grandmother around the kitchen or dancing up and down the hallway to the music pouring out of the Barney music game Grandmother left out for him. Quite the musical little guy. Once he figured out how to push the buttons and turn the pages on Barney - it was all over. I love that you don't have to teach babies to dance. They just bounce their little bottoms and wave their hands. Adorable.

The weather was downright crappy while we were in Arkadelphia. It literally rained the entire time.

 

See Arkansas in there, under all the "weather"? See the part where the yellow circle of Severe T'Storms Possible overlaps the red circle of Flash Flooding Possible? Yeah, that would be Arkadelphia. It rained over 10 inches in the 48 hours we were there. TEN. INCHES. And it was getting worse. The forecast for late on the 24th was looking like snow as we approached Northwest Arkansas so we loaded up and tried to beat the weather back to our house.

We made it back before it started snowing, and we woke up to the first White Christmas for Fayetteville since the 70s. Christmas Day was nice and quiet at our own house. We napped a little and played in the snow a little. Merry Christmas, Buddy!

 

 

  

The next day (the 26th) Grandma and Grandpa Martin and Aunt Becky arrived from San Antonio to celebrate the second half of Christmas! That night Grandma and Grandpa helped Santa assemble Colt's new tricycle.

 

And the next morning was another round of presents and wrapping paper and BOWS!

 

 

 

 

 
 

Aunt Laura sent Colt some shakers from Botswana. They are used in traditional Setswana dancing, wrapped around your feet. I think Colt is definitely getting the hang of them...

   

Grandma and Grandpa were able to stay for several days and it was so nice to get to visit with them. I missed their visit in November while I was in Africa so I hadn't seen them in a few months. And they got to spend a few days spoiling the little guy.

 

Grandma Martin thinks it is borderline child abuse that we don't give Colt baths. (He takes showers with Jeff. I don't remember who told us about this technique but we've done it since day one and it is CRAZY efficient.) So. Guess what Colt got for Christmas from Grandma!

 

And Grandpa's contribution. Always with the coffee. Over the course of a few days, Grandpa taught Colt how to use our coffeemaker. (And everyone knows you have to wear protective gear when making coffee.)

 

 

A lot of good food and a few movies later it was time for Grandma and Grandpa to head home. Merry Christmas everyone!

 

(We had to go over to Becky's apartment to take our family photo in front of a Christmas tree.)

***

Dear Santa,

I wasn't very good this year, but I sure appreciate all the laughs you sent me anyway. It's all I truly wanted for Christmas this year and you delivered - as always.

You're the best.

Love, Sarah

Cue Christmas

Last week we made our annual, obligatory visit to the Santa who lives in the Northwest Arkansas Mall. Last year, if you recall, it was relatively uneventful. In fact, Santa's camera was broken so we got to play paparazzi and take all our own photos. We had no idea what a lucky break THAT was until this year, when Santa's camera was indeed functioning and we got to pay full price like the rest of the world. Needless to say, we bought ONE photo with plans to scan it in and illegally duplicate it, if necessary. Sorry Santa.

As Colt has grown and become more independent and wiggly and generally impatient, Jeff and I have become slightly better planners. We schedule around naptime, we don't go to popular restaurants on Friday nights, and we do grocery shopping ANY OTHER TIME than Saturday mornings. The 2009 Santa Visit was no exception. We had a plan. Monday. Dinner time. The rest of the world is home with their Hamburger Helper, homework, and football. We were counting on waltzing straight to the front of the line, saying hello to Santa and being home in plenty of time for Big Bang Theory. 

Monday. Dinner time. Evidently, we were a little TOO good at picking the least crowded night for Santa. And we inadvertently coincided with Bring Your DOG Night! Yep. Dogs. Big dogs. EVERYWHERE. IN the MALL. Eye to eye with my baby. Awesome.

Lest you think I am being dramatic, and, let's be honest - it happens. Feast your eyes on this little menagerie.

 

No camera tricks, you guys. That is a Saint Bernard, a Newfoundland and FOUR adult Boxers. And those were just the dogs within a five foot radius of Colt's stroller. It was a zoo! Dogs everywhere, yapping at each other, straining against their leashes for a better sniff of the fresh toddler meat in the polka dot stroller. 

There were dogs dressed like Rudolph, dogs dressed like Santa - dogs with no visible dignity left. The whole thing was a riot. The good news is Colt really likes dogs so it helped pass the time in line. The Boxers were in line directly behind us and they took turns being sweet to Colt - letting him touch their little wet noses. He LOVED it.

I wish I had better pictures of just what a mess of dogs it was, but oddly enough I felt a little funny taking pictures of it. I felt like the people in line with their dogs could sense my subtle mocking with every flash of my camera. So I stopped. But dogs as far as the eye could see. Trust me.

As we approached Santa's chair (throne?) we noticed The Big Guy is taking all proper precautions this year.

The sign reads: Dear Boys & Girls, Please sanitize your hands so that we can make sure that Santa takes no germs back to the NorthPole. We want to make sure that Rudolph and all the other reindeer are healthy and strong so that they can pull Santa's sleigh on Christmas Eve. Thank You.

Sadly, the worst typo in the whole thing is "NorthPole" as one word.

So after lubing up with some Purell so as not to give Santa our Arkansas cooties, it was go time. Colt was ok at first, no crying or gnashing of teeth. But his grip on my neck got a little tighter with each step toward Santa. And after a few attempts at talking him down from the ledge, we resorted to this: 

That Santa. Such a good sport. He scooted over and let me sit down, and we got a not-smiling, but not-crying photo with Santa. Success!

*** 

Last Friday we went to a Christmas party with a few friends you might recognize. I completely forgot about taking pictures until we were leaving so this photo is at the very end of the night when everyone else had left. I really need to get better at that. But LOOK! Friends! ADULTS! They do exist!

L to R: Matt, Nancy, Autumn, Jeff and Sarah. This should put a face with a name for some of you. Autumn is a very good friend (and coworker of Jeff's) who babysits for us sometimes. And Matt and Nancy are our Mom/Dad confidantes.

***

I abandoned my "buy EVERYTHING online policy" of Christmas shopping this year and have regretted every second of it. I finally finished my shopping yesterday. Ugh. Cyber Monday 2010 - here I come!

***

We leave for Arkadelphia today and the beginning of Christmas. I am excited to spend the next few weeks with family, and I hope Colt's second Christmas is as memorable as his first.

Keep warm. Have some eggnog. 

Unsung Heroes

December 20. Who is your unsung hero of 2009?

I've officially been a Mom since the afternoon of June 18, 2008 and I like to think I learn a little more each day about what that even means. I am responsible for this thing - my family. Sometimes it's fun and rewarding. Sometimes it's hard. Being a Mom is everything everyone told me it would be - and more. And at the same time, it's nothing like what I expected. Sometimes I sit cross-legged on the floor in the den, Colt in my lap pretending to read an upside down book, and just smile at myself. How did I get so lucky to have this special little guy - who wants nothing more than to be as close to me as humanly possible, whether I'm eating or washing dishes or attempting to get a moment's peace in the bathroom - to call my own? 

Being a Mom is a funny thing. You suddenly feel this camaraderie with other mothers - the strongest of empathies. And you are shamelessly able to discuss ANYTHING regarding pregnancy, babies, and children. Good. Bad. Ugly. It's all there. 

My unsung heroes of 2009 are Moms. My Mom. Her Mom. Jeff's Mom. All of the "Moms" I've had in my life. You know who you are. Love you.  

***

In response to daily (December) prompts, reflecting back on 2009, provided at gwenbell.com.

On travel.

December 19 Car ride. What did you see? How did it smell? Did you eat anything as you drove there? Who were you with? 

(Also: 

December 1 Trip. What was your best trip in 2009?
December 9 Challenge. Something that really made you grow this year. That made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you?)

So the actual prompt for today is the Car Ride one at the top, but since I've missed half the month, and I consider the 12/1 and 12/9 prompts relevant to the discussion, I thought I'd give myself credit for them. 

It seems odd that we did so much traveling in 2009 with such a young kid, but after making a quick mental list, and conferring with Jeff as I forget things in record time these days, I realized the Hoods really made the rounds this year. Between the two of us Jeff and I have hit several major US cities: Orlando, San Diego, Cincinnati, Los Angeles, Nashville, San Antonio, Seattle, and Las Vegas. All this year! And that doesn't even count my recent international jaunt to Africa during which Laura and I visited five countries in 8 days. Wow. 

Colt didn't make it to all those places with us, but my account of our trip to Seattle got picked up by a site called Pitstops for Kids!. He is totally famous - check it out RIGHT HERE.  

So - let's see. 

Car ride? We took a few. Branson. Little Rock/Arkadelphia/Smackover. Tulsa/Muskogee/Tahlequah. Probably others. The little guy tolerates the car pretty well and we try to time things with his nap and dinner time and such so that the ride is more bearable for everyone. We didn't take any major car ride across the country or anything - though I'm sure we'll lose our minds and attempt it one of these days. Honestly, my favorite car ride is the one I take at 5:00 every day when I pick up the munchkin from school. 

Best Trip of 2009. This is a pretty easy one. My trip to Africa will be hard to top. So many cool, once-in-a-lifetime experiences during that week. I feel so lucky to have had the chance to go. And glad my sweet husband made me get serious about going and buy my ticket. 

Challenge. Something that really made you grow. Again with the traveling. It was really tough on all three of us to be away from each other during various trips this year. With one of us gone, the other has to fill both roles and gains a new appreciation for how much the other one really does help around the house and with Colt. We've relied on Grandparents to help us a couple of times, and I know that's something that helps Colt be more flexible and get used to a little different routine. I love it when we're together all the time, but coming home after being gone is pretty good, too.

***

In response to daily prompts, reflecting back on 2009, provided at gwenbell.com. Join me, won't you?

The Best of 2009. Blog Challenge.

What is the challenge?

A look back on your year. A time for reflection. A chance to make new friends.

__________

Sign. Me. Up.

I live for that stuff.

So I recently found a website called gwenbell.com. And though I am 18 days late, I LOVE the idea of taking time during each day in December to look back and highlight all of my 2009 notables. There is a prompt listed for each day, but since I didn't get in on the ground floor, I'll be taking some liberties so that I can fit it all in.

*** 

December 18. Shop. Online or offline, where did you spend most of your mad money this year?

My name is Sarah Hood. And I am addicted to Shutterfly. I honestly can't imagine that you haven't heard of it, but I suppose stranger things have happened. From Shutterfly's About Us page: We are a leading Internet-based social expression and personal publishing service that enables consumers to share, print and preserve their memories by leveraging our technology-based platform and manufacturing processes.

Translation: A big pile of awesomeness.

I think I knew of Shutterfly before but I experienced my first Shutterfly project last Christmas when my sister-in-law Lynn made Jeff a photo book of his trip to Washington to climb Mt. Rainier. It is really cool and something we still look through from time to time. I loved that you could put journaling and photos together in a professionally bound book - and putting it together is SO easy. Everything is online so there are no scrapbooking supplies to buy/store/sort, you can make endless adjustments until you order, and you can work on multiple projects at once -- I currently have 6 open projects!

So. It's my new favorite thing. I did our Christmas cards with them this year and several Christmas presents for family. And! My most favorite! Colt's baby book. It starts the day I found out I was pregnant - October 1, 2007 - and runs through his entire first year. Shutterfly photo books start at 20 pages and max out at 100. His book is every bit of 100 pages and holds several hundred photographs. But honestly, if they had an option for a 700 page book...

I started it over six months ago. And working on it the last several months has all but permanently shifted my bedtime from around 10 to around midnight. I have stayed up after the boys are asleep, playing with backgrounds and fonts and cropping/editing photos until I just can't keep my eyes open. And I'm almost sad that it's all done. Though - never fear - I have already started his Second Year book!

Shutterfly is definitely a favorite new hobby - and not free (what is?!) - but it has truly been therapeutic. Looking through old photos, reading through old blog entries. I can't get enough. Jeff has been teasing me - saying I actually made the book for Colt's (someday) wife, which is probably somewhat true! But I hope that Colt and his family enjoy it someday, reading through his first year of life and getting a strong sense of where he came from.

I thought about posting the link here so you can see my handiwork, but I don't want to spoil the surprise for grandparents and family when they see it next week at Christmas. I promise to post a link after that. And as a consolation prize - and so you can see the photo book concept in action - you can feast your eyes on another recently completed project - my Africa trip.

Click here to view this photo book.

And if that doesn't work, try THIS LINK.